


Prompt Fics

by olivebranchesandredwine



Series: Prompt Fics [1]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Canon Queer Relationship, Car Accidents, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2020-10-10 00:02:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 9,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20518646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivebranchesandredwine/pseuds/olivebranchesandredwine
Summary: A collection of Schitt’s Creek drabbles and ficlets





	1. I'm right here, ok?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [codswallop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/codswallop/gifts).

> Consolidated all my short prompt pics here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a car accident, and someone needs to be comforted

****_Why is it dark? _David is sweating and everything is so _hot, _but he just can’t seem to get his sweater off. Because his arms don’t want to work when he tries to move them. _Oh, _it dawns on him, _my seatbelt. _He moves to unbuckle himself, only to be met with a shock of pain exploding from his shoulder out toward his fingers and down into his chest.

_Why is it so dark in here? _He feels the sweat dripping down his forehead into his left eye, thick and sticky warm like honey. Something’s wrong. It’s so dark, and everything is so loud; he’s _feeling_ all the sounds around him inside his body, a relentless roar pulsing on the wrong side of his skull like it’s coming from deep within his brain.

_Where’s Patrick? _Suddenly everything else is irrelevant. The dark, the pain, the roar…all David can think or feel or want or need is _Patrick, _and nothing else matters, and David remembers that talking is a thing that people can do.

“Puh-patrick?” David doesn’t recognize that voice. What he hears is not _his_ voice; it’s a raspy, broken whisper of a thing, and it’s so soft that nobody will be able to hear it and now he feels the wetness of tears mingling with that strange, sticky thick sweat that’s reached his cheekbones, and all David wants is to feel Patrick, to hear him, to know where he is.

“Shhh, baby…don’t talk. I’m here. Just stay still. I’ve got you,” David hears him, but he’s so far away. He tries to turn toward the sound of Patrick’s voice, and then the pain is shooting through his head and down to his toes, and all of a sudden an anguished cry breaks through the roar, and David can’t quite comprehend that the sound is coming from him.

Patrick’s shushing him again, and then David can feel a fingertip grazing his cheek, and that fingertip makes the crying stop. David sighs in relief; that cry was _so loud _that was making his whole body hurt. But now that the crying is gone David notices a loud wailing, a siren off in the distance somewhere. It’s jarring; they don’t hear sirens very often in Schitt’s Creek. _I hope whoever they’re going to is okay._

Patrick is still so far away, but David can feel his fingertip on his cheek, and he knows that as long as he can feel Patrick that it’s okay.

“Stay with me, David. They’re almost here. I love you, stay with me, please.” Patrick’s voice is shaky, and it sounds almost like he’s crying, but Patrick doesn’t cry. He’s stoic and steady and holds David up when David’s ready to collapse and Patrick doesn’t cry.

And of course David’s going to stay with him. In what universe would he ever leave this beautiful, strong, amazing man? David doesn’t understand why Patrick would decide to worry about that _now _when it’s so dark and hot and loud.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” David says the words, but the voice that is so foreign and quiet and not his, “I’m right here, okay?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick's POV. This is a gift for hutchens, who asked for it. 
> 
> For those who didn't ask for it, I'm so sorry.

“Mmm, such a distraction,” David presses a kiss to Patrick’s knuckles, and then lets go of his hand, bringing his own back to 10 and 2 on the steering wheel. “I think we need to finish this at home.”

Patrick grins over at his fiancé from the passenger seat. David is the model of attentiveness as he puts the Lincoln into gear and turns onto the quiet street, and it’s driving Patrick slightly out of his mind. He’s a little tipsy from the drinks he had with dinner and then again for dessert, which he’d drunk a bit too quickly while David teased him mercilessly with the whipped cream on his chocolate mousse. He’d really love to have his head in David’s lap right now, taking that gorgeous cock into his mouth, but David gets grumpy when Patrick distracts him from driving.

Even though David gets anxious when he’s driving, especially at night, Patrick feels completely safe. David’s so careful, so conscientious. And so _so _beautiful with that look of concentration, his dark brows slightly furrowed as he chews absentmindedly on his bottom lip.

David’s eyes are glued to the road ahead, while Patrick’s are glued on David’s face. He barely has time to speak when he sees the lights barreling toward them.

“Oh god, Dav—”

There’s a loud crash and the world spins out of focus. Patrick hears the shriek of metal crunching in on itself, the thud of something heavy landing hard, the heart-wrenching sound of David screaming, suddenly cut off into silence.

Patrick fumbles around, checking himself for any major injuries. He unbuckles his seatbelt, but finds himself in a crumpled heap…on the car’s ceiling. 

The car’s turned upside down, not the world, Patrick assures himself.

“David.”

He looks toward the driver’s seat, sees his beautiful, vivacious fiancé, wedged beneath the steering column, eyes open but unfocused, his body broken.

“_David._”

Patrick reaches for him, but is blocked by singed leather and smoke, his hand burned and bloodied by twisted, broken metal. David doesn’t move.

“_DAVID.”_

He’s met with silence, and in that moment, Patrick’s world is turned upside down. He has to get to David. He has to touch his fiancé. Patrick clambers out of the broken window; the bite of the broken glass against his back barely registers. He rushes to the other side of the car and screams. The door is crumpled; there’s not enough clearance to get through the window.

Patrick falls to his stomach and peers inside, sees that familiar shock of black hair, now dampened with blood. He tries to reach inside the window.

David’s so far away. Still so far away.

“David, sweetie, I’m here.” _YES. _Patrick feels the tip of his middle finger graze David’s cheekbone. He’s crying audibly now, “David, I’m right here, okay?”

Bolstered by the feeling of David’s skin against his own, Patrick remembers himself. He reaches his hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone.

“Yes, there’s been a car accident. We need an ambulance at…near the intersection of Elm Street and Valley Ave. Hurry.”

“Puh-patrick?”

_David. _Patrick sobs at the sound of his voice, offers up a silent prayer to whatever might be listening out there, begs for more time with the man he loves. _Please._

“Shhh, baby…don’t talk. I’m here. Just stay still. I’ve got you,” Patrick can’t stop babbling, afraid that if he stops talking David might let go, and he can’t lose him. Not not. Not yet. _Please._

“Stay with me, David. They’re almost here. I love you, stay with me, please.”

—

Hours, maybe days later, David finally wakes to feel Patrick’s fingertip grazing his cheekbone.

“I’ll always stay with you, love,” he whispers, and presses a gentle kiss to Patrick’s finger.


	3. That was kind of hot

“I’m sorry; I couldn’t wait,” Patrick pants, “You’re just so fucking hot in that outfit.”

David’s greeted with quite the surprise when he walks into the stockroom. Patrick “No Sex at Work” Brewer is sprawled on the little loveseat with his pants shoved down onto his hips, groaning as he frantically jerks his cock, using his other hand to tug at his balls.

“Mmmm,” David quirks an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth tilting up into a lopsided smirk while he leans against the desk to watch his boyfriend’s little show.

David closes the distance between them to meet Patrick with a searing kiss, a mess of lips and teeth and tongue. “Stand up. I want to try something.”

Patrick whines as David grabs his hands and pulls him to his feet, but settles quickly when David makes quick work of unbuttoning his own pants to release his erection.

Soon, they’re standing face-to-face, cock-to-cock, and David has his hands on both of them. Feeling the leaking tip of David’s dick against his own makes Patrick’s knees go weak. And then David is stroking the length of Patrick’s cock, soft but firm, not enough to make him come, but it feels so nice.

David keeps stroking, gently pushing the skin up and oh _oh_, soon Patrick’s foreskin is wrapped around the head of David’s cock and _fuck. _They’re both slick from pre-come, and David’s dick is so hot and _inside _him, with David’s hand there, squeezing them both, making sure they stay connected and covered.

“Touch yourself, Patrick,” David leans forward and licks along the side Patrick’s jaw, unable to reach his mouth because Patrick is staring down at their cocks docked together. Patrick licks his palm and starts to slide it up and down along his shaft, squeezing and twisting, utterly mesmerized at how they’re fit together, at how it feels to have David’s glans inside his skin, slick and tight and warm.

With his unoccupied hand, David starts to stroke himself, careful not to dislodge his cock from Patrick’s foreskin. Soon they’re both panting, foreheads pressed together.

“Come with me?” David asks between grunts.

“Mmmhmm,” Patrick can only hum in response, too caught up in his own pleasure to make words happen. Another few strokes and he’s _exploding _all around the head of David’s dick. David follows right after, pushed over the edge by the sensation of Patrick coming on him, by Patrick’s come seeping out from where they’re docked together, dripping into his hand, by the sound of Patrick’s wordless cry, how his head collapsesonto David’s shoulder.

Slowly, they pull their dicks apart, both suddenly feeling a little giggly, shaky. Carelessly, hey collapse onto the loveseat, pants still bunched around their thighs, crotches a sticky mess of come and spit.

“That….I’ve never done that before,” David confesses, “It…tha-that was kind of hot.”

“_Kind of? _Are you kidding me?” Patrick’s petulant incredulity makes David laugh; it’s so rare that he gets to be the one to pull off the deadpan. His eyes twinkle as he pulls Patrick in for a kiss.

“A lot. It was _a lot _hot,” David concludes. “Definitely something to add to the rotation.” Patrick gives him a gooey-eyed, satisfied grin, then rests his head against David’s shoulder.

“Now, Mr. Brewer. About that No Sex at Work Rule….”


	4. Smile

“I’m sorry; I couldn’t wait,” Patrick pants, “You’re just so fucking hot in that outfit.”

David’s greeted with quite the surprise when he walks into the stockroom. Patrick “No Sex at Work” Brewer is sprawled on the little loveseat with his pants shoved down onto his hips, groaning as he frantically jerks his cock, using his other hand to tug at his balls.

“Mmmm,” David quirks an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth tilting up into a lopsided smirk while he leans against the desk to watch his boyfriend’s little show.

David closes the distance between them to meet Patrick with a searing kiss, a mess of lips and teeth and tongue. “Stand up. I want to try something.”

Patrick whines as David grabs his hands and pulls him to his feet, but settles quickly when David makes quick work of unbuttoning his own pants to release his erection.

Soon, they’re standing face-to-face, cock-to-cock, and David has his hands on both of them. Feeling the leaking tip of David’s dick against his own makes Patrick’s knees go weak. And then David is stroking the length of Patrick’s cock, soft but firm, not enough to make him come, but it feels so nice.

David keeps stroking, gently pushing the skin up and oh _oh_, soon Patrick’s foreskin is wrapped around the head of David’s cock and _fuck. _They’re both slick from pre-come, and David’s dick is so hot and _inside _him, with David’s hand there, squeezing them both, making sure they stay connected and covered.

“Touch yourself, Patrick,” David leans forward and licks along the side Patrick’s jaw, unable to reach his mouth because Patrick is staring down at their cocks docked together. Patrick licks his palm and starts to slide it up and down along his shaft, squeezing and twisting, utterly mesmerized at how they’re fit together, at how it feels to have David’s glans inside his skin, slick and tight and warm.

With his unoccupied hand, David starts to stroke himself, careful not to dislodge his cock from Patrick’s foreskin. Soon they’re both panting, foreheads pressed together.

“Come with me?” David asks between grunts.

“Mmmhmm,” Patrick can only hum in response, too caught up in his own pleasure to make words happen. Another few strokes and he’s _exploding _all around the head of David’s dick. David follows right after, pushed over the edge by the sensation of Patrick coming on him, by Patrick’s come seeping out from where they’re docked together, dripping into his hand, by the sound of Patrick’s wordless cry, how his head collapsesonto David’s shoulder.

Slowly, they pull their dicks apart, both suddenly feeling a little giggly, shaky. Carelessly, hey collapse onto the loveseat, pants still bunched around their thighs, crotches a sticky mess of come and spit.

“That….I’ve never done that before,” David confesses, “It…tha-that was kind of hot.”

“_Kind of? _Are you kidding me?” Patrick’s petulant incredulity makes David laugh; it’s so rare that he gets to be the one to pull off the deadpan. His eyes twinkle as he pulls Patrick in for a kiss.

“A lot. It was _a lot _hot,” David concludes. “Definitely something to add to the rotation.” Patrick gives him a gooey-eyed, satisfied grin, then rests his head against David’s shoulder.

“Now, Mr. Brewer. About that No Sex at Work Rule….”


	5. Just say something

“_Patrick_. I need you to talk to me. What’s wrong?” David’s voice was shaky, breathless from exertion as well as from the panic threatening to gnaw through his stomach. “Are you ok?” His dick was throbbing and he was almost overcome by the need to move, but his fiancé had just gone catatonic, and, well, _priorities._

“Do we need to stop?” Patrick, face still scrunched up tightly, shook his head furiously. David’s shoulders relaxed a bit at the gesture, but he still needed to sort this out.

“Words, Patrick. I’m going to need actual words,” David gently prodded, “Yell, scream, cry….please, just say something_….anything_. Tell me what you need.”

Patrick opened his eyes and looked up, all dazed and unfocused, as if it was taking longer than usual to register what was going on around him.

“I…uh, I—_fuck…David,_” he whimpered, and then pushed himself the rest of the way back onto David’s cock. “_Fuck_.” And _holy fucking god _it was exquisite. No barriers, just Patrick’s tight heat enveloping his cock. He could stay buried inside his fiancé’s ass forever.

“So we’re good here?” David tried to smirk, but it was choked off by a moan as Patrick rocked forward and back, off and on David’s cock. “_Fuck!”_

_“_Uh-huh,” Patrick agreed, “Now. Please. Fuck me, David.” Patrick pressed his chest into the mattress and arched his back, giving David the angle he needed. And with that, David let himself go, snapping his hips to a furious rhythm, fingernails squeezing into Patrick’s flesh. The room echoed with the sound of sweat-slick skin slapping against skin, of muttered obscenities and moans and grunts until they were both hurtling toward climax. 

“Fuck, David. ‘M gonna come.” Patrick gasped into the pillow as he jerked his cock, “Wanna feel you. Come inside me,” his voice turning to a wordless groan as he spilled over his hand. David managed a few more thrusts once Patrick started clenching around him, and then he, too, was falling over the edge, holding tight to Patrick’s body as he exploded deep inside him.

After minutes or hours or days or eternities, David lifted himself up just enough to pull his softening cock out, and rolled onto his side.

“That was different,” he chuckled.

“Mmmm,” Patrick agreed. 


	6. Can I kiss you

“Don’t look at me like that,” David can’t take it. The intensity of it, the intimacy. It’s like Patrick is looking _into_ him, seeing all the broken pieces of himself that he’s tried so hard to hide from the world, and it’s too much.

David doesn’t want Patrick to see those parts of him; he doesn’t want anyone to see them. The fragile bits that he’s spent years—decades, really—securing behind a layer of brick, of stone. Which each broken promise, with each heartbreak, he’s added another layer, built the walls up a little higher, working to make his defenses impenetrable, to keep himself safe.

And for the last few years, it’s worked pretty well.

Not really. It hasn’t dulled the pain; all those walls have done is trap the heartache inside him. David is damaged, knows he’s damaged, and the walls he’s erected between himself and the world aren’t going to change that. But at least this pain, the one he carries within those walls, is familiar. And there’s something almost soothing about that familiarity. _The devil you know_ and all.

But Patrick. Patrick seems downright determined to tear down all those carefully constructed walls, and he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing. Patrick, with his heart eyes and his unchecked smiles and his earnest, _easy_ expressions of emotion. He doesn’t understand what he’s getting himself into, and it breaks David’s heart to think about how he’s going to break him, how one day Patrick is going to break through enough of that wall to make it all come crashing out. About how the sheer force of David’s damage is going to fucking smother him. Beautiful, sweet, earnest Patrick deserves so much better. David doesn’t want to ruin him. Knows that when Patrick finally sees his truth, he _will _ruin him.

The generous thing to do would be to break it off now. If David were a good person, a _nice _person, he’d do that. He’d break Patrick’s heart now before it can really be broken, so that he he won’t be ruined later. David should be generous for Patrick, spare him from David’s damage. He should let him go now. That would be the nice thing to do.

David _can_ do that; it’s happened before. Though few and far between, David has encountered good people, people who wanted him for more than sex or drugs or money or prestige. And he’s always saved them the heartache, saved them from themselves. Hell, he did it for Stevie and it almost killed him. He knows he should do it for Patrick.

But something about the way Patrick just _looks _at him…it’s unsettling. It fills him up from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes with something so utterly terrifying David doesn’t know what or how to think. _Hope. _What the fuck is David supposed to do with _hope?_

David knows he should protect Patrick. He knows that this is going to hurt so much more the longer he doesn’t stop. For both of them. The hurt is nothing new for David; it’s what he’s used to; hurt is David’s comfort zone.

But Patrick.

God, David doesn’t want to hurt Patrick. He doesn’t want Patrick to _ever _hurt. And maybe that’s why he keeps pushing it off, keeps prolonging the inevitable. Because he doesn’t ever want to be the one to make that smile fade, even though he knows one day it’s going to happen. One day it will all be _too much _and Patrick’s smile will go away for good. And for the first time in _years, _that’s a pain too intense for David to even imagine. He never wants to be the one to make Patrick hurt. Never.

And he’s still just doing it. Gazing fondly at David like he hung the fucking _moon_, and it’s too much. David can’t take it, so he leans in close, brings his lips to ghost along Patrick’s jaw, and asks, “Can I kiss you?”


	7. aren't there always regrets?

“Don’t look at me like that,” David can’t take it. The intensity of it, the intimacy. It’s like Patrick is looking _into_ him, seeing all the broken pieces of himself that he’s tried so hard to hide from the world, and it’s too much.

David doesn’t want Patrick to see those parts of him; he doesn’t want anyone to see them. The fragile bits that he’s spent years—decades, really—securing behind a layer of brick, of stone. Which each broken promise, with each heartbreak, he’s added another layer, built the walls up a little higher, working to make his defenses impenetrable, to keep himself safe.

And for the last few years, it’s worked pretty well.

Not really. It hasn’t dulled the pain; all those walls have done is trap the heartache inside him. David is damaged, knows he’s damaged, and the walls he’s erected between himself and the world aren’t going to change that. But at least this pain, the one he carries within those walls, is familiar. And there’s something almost soothing about that familiarity. _The devil you know_ and all.

But Patrick. Patrick seems downright determined to tear down all those carefully constructed walls, and he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing. Patrick, with his heart eyes and his unchecked smiles and his earnest, _easy_ expressions of emotion. He doesn’t understand what he’s getting himself into, and it breaks David’s heart to think about how he’s going to break him, how one day Patrick is going to break through enough of that wall to make it all come crashing out. About how the sheer force of David’s damage is going to fucking smother him. Beautiful, sweet, earnest Patrick deserves so much better. David doesn’t want to ruin him. Knows that when Patrick finally sees his truth, he _will _ruin him.

The generous thing to do would be to break it off now. If David were a good person, a _nice _person, he’d do that. He’d break Patrick’s heart now before it can really be broken, so that he he won’t be ruined later. David should be generous for Patrick, spare him from David’s damage. He should let him go now. That would be the nice thing to do.

David _can_ do that; it’s happened before. Though few and far between, David has encountered good people, people who wanted him for more than sex or drugs or money or prestige. And he’s always saved them the heartache, saved them from themselves. Hell, he did it for Stevie and it almost killed him. He knows he should do it for Patrick.

But something about the way Patrick just _looks _at him…it’s unsettling. It fills him up from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes with something so utterly terrifying David doesn’t know what or how to think. _Hope. _What the fuck is David supposed to do with _hope?_

David knows he should protect Patrick. He knows that this is going to hurt so much more the longer he doesn’t stop. For both of them. The hurt is nothing new for David; it’s what he’s used to; hurt is David’s comfort zone.

But Patrick.

God, David doesn’t want to hurt Patrick. He doesn’t want Patrick to _ever _hurt. And maybe that’s why he keeps pushing it off, keeps prolonging the inevitable. Because he doesn’t ever want to be the one to make that smile fade, even though he knows one day it’s going to happen. One day it will all be _too much _and Patrick’s smile will go away for good. And for the first time in _years, _that’s a pain too intense for David to even imagine. He never wants to be the one to make Patrick hurt. Never.

And he’s still just doing it. Gazing fondly at David like he hung the fucking _moon_, and it’s too much. David can’t take it, so he leans in close, brings his lips to ghost along Patrick’s jaw, and asks, “Can I kiss you?”


	8. Coitus Non-interuptus

“Oh god, David…Oh. Fuck. Yes. There. Fuck. Me. David. Fuck. Unnngh,” Patrick had gone nonverbal as David’s pace quickened, his powerful thrusts aimed right at the spot that reduced Patrick to a whimpering, begging mess.

Patrick was currently chest down, ass up, his fiancé’s thick cock pounding him into the mattress of his childhood bed. David’s forearms bracketed Patrick’s torso, hands wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer as he snapped his hips in a relentless rhythm. David was biting and licking and sucking a spot on the back of Patrick’s shoulder as he fucked him; the room echoed with the sounds of sex, of wet skin slapping together, of the headboard thumping its bass tattoo against the wall, of panting and sweet nothings and groans and shouted obscenities, mostly coming from Patrick’s own blissfully unfiltered, sex-stupid mouth. David was still _trying _to keep it down. To be _respectful_ as he fucked his fiancé into oblivion in his parents' house. 

Patrick didn’t seem to have the same concern. “Fuuuuuuck,” he whined and turned his head into the pillow, biting into the fabric of the pillowcase in a vain attempt to control his volume. “Daaaaaa-vid-mmmmm….” he couldn’t stifle the moan. His own throbbing dick was leaking furiously, a long line of precome drooling down to the mattress beneath him. He kept reaching to touch himself, only to get distracted by David’s cock hitting his prostate, over and over and over. If David kept this up, he was gonna come without touching himself at all. He was so close, so so so close…he could feel the tension building at the base of his spine, causing his whole body to tense in anticipation. “I’m gonna…I’m gonna….UNNNNNNNNNGH,” it felt like his whole body exploded as he shot white ribbons of come onto his stomach.

Feeling Patrick clenching around him as he came sent David hurtling over the edge into his own orgasm. He thrust slowly, more forcefully as he filled Patrick’s ass with his own release before slumping down, resting his forehead against Patrick’s back. They lay there, David still inside Patrick, both sweaty and sticky and panting, coming down from their climaxes. Patrick whimpered at the loss as David pulled his softening cock out and rolled onto his side, only to make a happy little sigh at the sensation of David’s fingers, rubbing along his perineum to scoop up his come before pressing back into Patrick’s pink, well-used hole. David pressed his mouth over the bite mark on Patrick’s shoulder, soothing it with lips and tongue, and then he pulled his fiancé in to be his little spoon. 

“That was….mmmmm,” Patrick was gooey, the way he got after sex, all relaxed and happy and snuggly. David loved post-coital Patrick. Of course, David loved every possible version of Patrick, but gooey Patrick was his favorite. They cuddled closer and basked in the afterglow, relishing in the intimacy offered by an expectedly empty house when their Uber dropped them off this afternoon. 

“Hey Patrick?”

“Yes, love?”

“Um….did you mean to leave the door open?”

Patrick’s eyes shot open as he bolted upright. The bedroom door was wide open. He could have _sworn _he closed it when they came inside.

_Oh my god. _Maybe I didn’t close the door. OK, I bet I didn’t close the door._I know I closed the door. _Why is the door open? _Please let me have not closed the door._

* * *

Downstairs, Clint and Marcy were bringing in a few extra groceries from Marcy's last trip out. She had just gotten home from a second trip to the market—ingredients for the burgers Clint had, at the last minute, decided to grill for tonight’s dinner after they’d gotten back from their usual grocery run a little while before. She hadn't questioned the sudden change. 

Clint stopped at the bottom of the stairs to yell up, “Patrick? David? Are you here?” and headed back into the kitchen. He wanted to give them all the notice they needed this time. No need for any more surprises.

No need for any of the other three people to _ever _know what he walked in on earlier.

There are some things that a parent just doesn’t ever expect to see. Or hear.

There are most certainly some things that a child never needs to know that his parent saw. And heard.

At least he knows David makes Patrick happy. Even though he now knows it more completely than he would have ever wanted.

At least Patrick is happy.


	9. Just roll with it, baby

“It’s not funny, David.” Patrick whined. This was a good sign. If he was ok enough to pout, then David could let himself relax…and laugh.

Because, contrary to what grumpy Patrick said, it _was _funny.

David’s lips pulled taut over his teeth as he struggled to hold in the laughter, but he couldn’t control the way the corners of his crinkled as he gazed down fondly at his fiancé, who was reclined on the cot before him, right leg elevated with an icepack on his ankle. 

“How’s your ankle feeling?”

“Still hurts,” Patrick mumbled, voice small and petulant, eyes glued to _something_ fascinating on the hem of his hoodie. David had to lean down close to hear him over the cacophony of movement and machines and voices surrounding their little curtained off bubble in the emergency department.

David ran his fingertips up and down Patrick’s back, bringing his face down to nuzzle into the curls starting to appear at the top of his partner’s head, now that he’d agreed to grow it out a bit before the wedding. David inhaled deeply and pressed his lips to Patrick’s scalp and wrapped both arms around him. He sighed as he felt the tension dissolve from Patrick’s body as he settled into David’s embrace.

“How about now?”

“Mmm…better.” Patrick’s eyes were closed, the corners of his mouth tightening into the tiniest hint of a smile as David slowly nuzzled his face back and forth across the top of Patrick’s head.

“Mr. Brewer?” The scrape of metal against metal as the curtain opened jarred both men out of their reverie; a woman in scrubs and white lab coat, blond hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, reviewed a chart as she walked into their little bubble. “Your x-rays came back clear. Nothing broken.” David breathed a sigh of relief, smiling gently into Patrick’s hair.

“But you do have a pretty severe sprain, and those can sometimes hurt as much, or more, than a break. You should be ok with over-the-counter pain relievers. Remember RICE—Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation. You’re going to need to keep it braced and stable so that it can heal. We’ll get you set up with a walking boot before you leave. Lastly, you’re going to need to take it easy for a while. Avoid any weight-bearing activities and strenuous exercise until you’ve followed up with your doctor.” Patrick nodded along as he listened to the doctor’s instructions, while David scribbled notes in his journal.

"Oh, and I noticed you didn’t answer the question on worker’s compensation—if this is an injury you sustained at work, we’ll need some additional information from you. Did you sprain your ankle at work?”

Patrick looked from the doctor to David with wide eyes as the blush spread across his face to the tops of his ears, moving his head side to side in an almost imperceptible shake. _Nope. Not gonna tell her how—_

_“_WE WERE HAVING SEX,” David blurted. “We were having sex and he rolled his foot while he was picking me up and _that’s never happened before. _I mean, the rolling part, the picking up has and well, we just both kind of _landed. O_n his ankle. And he didn’t even want to come to get checked out but I thought I heard a crunch and he was having a really hard time even _walking _and…_Don’t look at me like that Patrick Brewer; this is our _business, _our _FUTURE_ and there are FORMS and I don’t want to screw up anything if there’s the _government_ involved—”_

The doctor bit back a chuckle, interrupting the anxious, raven-haired man whose voice was going up about an octave with every word.“Sir, _sir? _It’s ok. There’s not a form for…_that_.”

“Um, oh… ok then,” David muttered, suddenly feeling very deflated, even if the doctor’s words had stopped the panic spiral.

“A nurse will be in shortly to fit you with a walking boot and get you ready for discharge. Take care, gentlemen,” and with that, the doctor left them alone in their broken little bubble.

David looked down at his feet sheepishly, already dreading the long ride back to Patrick’s apartment. The combination of pain, embarrassment, and now his inevitable frustration at David would make for a _very _grumpy Patrick. _How bad is it going to be? _He dared the tiniest of glances at Patrick through his dark eyelashes.

Patrick was still blushing, but he was looking up at David with soft eyes—David had to pinch himself sometimes because he was actually engaged to a living, breathing _heart eyes emoji_—and the hint of grin. 

“OK, maybe it was a _little _funny,” Patrick agreed, and pulled his beautiful fiancé down for a kiss.


	10. just for us

“Wait!” David popped off Sebastien’s cock with a slurp, “I…I’ve never done this before.” He panted more than spoke, his voice low and rough from taking Sebastien deep into his throat. “I’m not sure—” Sebastien cut him off by running the fingers of one hand through David’s hair, guiding the head of his dick back into his mouth with the other.

“Shhh, David…you’re beautiful like this. Just let yourself be present.” Sebastien thrust harder, both hands gripping David’s face, watching his dick disappear into David’s mouth. “I just want to capture the moment…for us.”

David stilled his movement and gazed up at that beautiful face, awash with a mixture of pleasure and desire, and knew in that moment that he’d do anything Sebastien asked of him. He pulled off again, gave Sebastien a trusting, lopsided grin, and nodded. 

“O-okay,” he assented, “just for us.”

Sebastien picked up the camera.


	11. Ah not there!

It’s like he was a teenager, giggling into Patrick’s kisses, all nerves and passion and fumbling hands staying very much above the waist as they made out. David made extra sure to keep space between their bodies as they kissed, uncertain as he was about what qualified as “slow” for Patrick. Letting Patrick feel just how hard these make-out sessions were getting him probably wasn’t slow.

Patrick made him feel like a teenager, and it was…exhilarating. Nerve-wracking.

_Don’t fuck this up._

And then Patrick was walking him backward as his hands were running up and down David’s sides, fingernails scratching lightly against the fabric of his sweatshirt. David moaned into Patrick’s mouth as Patrick crowded him against the wall.

“Ah—not there!” David choked out the words; if Patrick didn’t stop this _right now_, they were gonna be breaking his rules, and David wanted to be good for Patrick, be _so so good _for him. “You don’t want to do that; it’s not slow.”

“I know what I want, David.” Patrick growled at him; he fucking _growled_, his eyes dark with pure lust. “Let me have it.” Patrick licked into David’s mouth, exploring and searching, claiming the topography as his own. _Property of Patrick Brewer_.Because…_well_, if Patrick wanted it, David would give it willingly. Any goddamned thing this beautiful man wanted. His mouth, his hands, his dick, his ass…his heart. _Fuck. _David knew he was in trouble.

By now Patrick had backed David completely against the wall. Their bodies were pressed together; David could feel Patrick hot and hard and thick against his thigh, and that was _definitely _not slow.

Patrick dropped his hands lower and slipped them underneath David’s shirt; this time dragging his nails up David’s bare skin. David shivered from head to toe at the sensation and widened his stance, letting Patrick slot a thigh between his legs. He couldn’t hold back; he squeezed Patrick’s thigh with his own and rolled his hips forward, humming in relief at the delicious friction.

David grinned as Patrick whimpered into his mouth, “More, please, David. _More_.” David grabbed two handfuls of Patrick’s perfect ass in those tight jeans and pulled him closer.

“Fuck, you feel so good. Wanna make you come. Wanna feel you come,” David mouthed against Patrick’s jaw, his neck, licked along the shell of his ear. This wasn’t slow at all, and it was _perfect._

David brought his mouth crashing back to Patrick’s, licking the seam of his lips, letting his tongue glide over Patrick’s as he squeezed and rocked against Patrick’s thigh, grinding his clothed erection against Patrick’s until they were both sweating and panting and grunting. Too soon David felt himself fall over the edge, coming into his briefs and possibly ruining his Givenchy pants, but he couldn’t bring himself to give even a single solitary fuck about it because Patrick was coming too, his face slack with pleasure as he shuddered through his orgasm, and it was the most beautiful thing David had ever seen.

“Thank you, David,” Patrick was using his bashful soft voice, the one from the car, and the warmth spread like spilled honey from the center of David’s chest. And then they were kissing again, softer, gentler, and Patrick was trembling in his arms, and for the first time in forever, David though maybe, just maybe, it might be possible for him to fall in love.


	12. Don't Cover Your Mouth

“Patrick, you need to talk to me,” Patrick could hear David talking from far away, but his voice was muffled, a bit indistinct, almost like his mouth was covered. Exactly like his face was buried in Patrick’s ass.

_Ohmygod. _Patrick’s thighs were trembling, but he couldn’t tell whether it was from the effort of holding himself up or from the sensation radiating from deep within his body. He brought his chest down to rest on the pillow, arched his back, and cradled his head in his hands. He tried not to push himself back onto David’s tongue, because that would probably be rude, but _ohmygod. _He felt David tease the delicate skin around his hole with his tongue and then _blow _along the wet path. Patrick’s throbbing dick jumped at the sensation, smearing a line of precome against his stomach.

“Patrick, how’re you doing up there?” David was smirking now, Patrick recognized that tone, and that tone meant that David was _talking _and his mouth wasn’t on Patrick anymore and that was a _serious problem. _He pushed his greedy hole back against David’s mouth, and this time David pushed his tongue _in._

_Ohmygodohmygodohmygod. _Patrick’s brain must have gone offline; his toes curled; his whole body was vibrating. This was too much pleasure for a mere mortal to process at once, too much happening for a brain to do something as impossibly tedious as make _words _come out of a mouth.

“Uhhhhh….nnnnngh,” with the next wiggle of that oh-so-amazing tongue, David ripped the sound from Patrick’s throat. _Did that count as talking? _Patrick hoped it did, because David’s mouth. His fucking _mouth _was doing…god knows _what _it was doing, to be honest, because Patrick felt electric, like he was buzzing from head to toe as David’s mouth was working. It was magic, what David’s mouth was doing, and Patrick never wanted it to stop.

“Daaaay—mmmmmmm,” he was whimpering now, his voice high-pitched and reedy. It took a moment for Patrick to register that the noise echoing in the room was coming from _him, _had _been _coming from him. He sounded so whiny, so unhinged. For a moment, he had the wherewithal to be embarrassed. He squeezed his eyes shut, buried his face in the pillow, biting into the the pillowcase to stifle the pathetic noises that just _wouldn’t stop coming _so that he could allow his attention to return to what David was doing to him. _Ohmyfuckinggod._

"Patrick.” David suddenly pulled back as he spoke, somehow transforming his name into a demand and a challenge and promise all in one, and then licked a stripe from Patrick’s balls all the way up his ass. Patrick bit down on the pillow to keep the desperate cries from escaping his lips.

_“_Don’t cover your mouth,” David commanded, “I like hearing you.” He leaned forward and tugged at the pillow. Patrick loosened his grip, let David take it from him and toss it to the floor. “Now where were we?” David pressed a delicate, open-mouthed kiss to the base of Patrick’s spine, and then licked his way back down.

“Unnghhh,” this time Patrick just let the cry out; he could feel his ears burning but it didn’t matter because David was spreading his cheeks with those big, soft hands, and he could feel David’s warm breath along the tender flesh. “Your sweet hole looks so pretty like this, so wet and open for me.” David laved the sensitive puckered skin, alternating messy, open-mouthed kisses, nibbling, and sucking along the rim. “I could do this forever.” And with that, David speared his tongue inside again, and Patrick screamed, “_FUCK!” _He didn’t try to choke it back this time, just let it come because David’s _mouth, _his fucking _mouth. _

By now the precome was drooling a line down to the mattress beneath him; the pressure was bubbling up deep inside; Patrick could feel the orgasm building, and it was going to be intense. _Fuck_. He had never felt this before, and it was going to _ruin _him, he could tell, but that would be okay because Patrick would gladly die right now if it meant having this forever.

But suddenly David’s tongue was gone and Patrick keened at the absence. He was empty; he missed it; he couldn’t live without it, even though an hour ago he didn’t even know what it felt like to have David’s tongue inside him. “Please,” he mewled pitifully, “please, David.”

“I’ve got you, don’t worry, baby,” David murmured, his breath hot and moist on Patrick’s perineum. He gave Patrick’s hole another messy lick and then pressed afingertip inside. “_FUCK, David!” _Patrick jerked involuntarily, pushed back onto David’s finger, fucked himself on it while David mouthed along his rim, moaning against him, seeming to derive as much pleasure as Patrick was just from taking himapart.

And then David crooked that finger and pressed against the swollen bundle of nerves and Patrick was seeing stars_, _fireworks, abstract splashes of color and light exploding behind his eyelids. The sound erupting from his mouth was wild; it was fucking _primal_ and then Patrick was coming, harder than he ever came before in his life, harder than he imagined _possible. _And he _kept_ coming, shuddering and crying as thick, hot ribbons spurted onto his stomach and the sheets beneath him, his legs quivering until they just gave out, and he collapsed ungracefully onto the bed.

David gentled his mouth and slowly withdrew his finger. He massaged Patrick’s cheeks with those strong, sure hands, then traced the length of Patrick’s spine with his fingertips as he slinked his way up the bed. He drew Patrick into his arms, the big spoon to Patrick’s little one, and splayed a hand against Patrick’s chest, holding tight over his heart.

“You doing okay over there, sweetie?” David whispered as he nosed the short hair above Patrick’s ear.

“Mmm-hmmmm,” was all Patrick could manage as he came down, still shuddering through the aftershocks of his orgasm. He brought both hands to rest over David’s, as though he could press this wonderful, generous, beautiful man even deeper into his heart. “Mm-hmm,” he repeated, sleepy and content.

_I think I love you, David Rose. _Patrick was surprised, but only because he _wasn’t surprised _by the thought. Because it made more sense than anything had ever known; it was _right_.But that’s something for another day. For now, he thought, it was time to snuggle with the man that he loved, and with that, Patrick let himself drift into sleep.


	13. here's something in your eye

David slid his fingers along the sides of Patrick’s head, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. Patrick moaned at the sensation and swallowed around his dick, making David whimper.

“You need to slow down,” he managed to gasp out as Patrick popped his mouth off to catch his breath. “I’m not gonna last.”

Patrick wrapped a hand around David’s length and mouthed messy, wet kisses to the head, smearing precome across his swollen, red lips. A line of spit or precome or maybe both trailed along with his mouth as he pulled his head away to look up at his wrecked boyfriend.

“Don’t care. Missed you,” and he then he went back in, groaning as he took David deeper into his mouth, felt the tip of his cock pushing into his throat.

It had been so long—two weeks—and _fuck. _Patrick felt so good. David closed his eyes and let his head drop back against the wall. _Think of Roland. Think of Mom and Dad doing this.Think of wearing Dockers._

Patrick swallowed around him again, and _shit. _David was in trouble now. Patrick was bobbing his head, slurping messily, giving David the firm suction that he knew would send him right over the edge. His boyfriend was pulling out all the stops to make him lose his fucking mind.

David wanted to enjoy it, wanted to draw out the pleasure, but _FUCK. _Patrick pressed two fingertips against his asshole, and he was coming fast and hard, surprising evenhimself at the intensity. And, _oh shit._

Patrick was coughing and sputtering as he wiped at his face. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to finish so early!” David covered his face with his hands, embarrassed, “where did I get you?” He parted his fingers and hazarded a peek down at his boyfriend, who was doubled over, laughing so hard his eyes were watering.

“Just a little, um…up my nose,” his eyes danced with glee as he looked up, “and in my eye.”

So maybe his eyes were watering because of the come.

“Oh my god,” David hid his face again. “That’s it. I can never come again. I’m a menace.” Patrick giggled some more as he rose to his feet. “Are you sure about that?” He cuddled in close, wrapped his strong arms around David’s waist. “I bet I can change your mind.” He nuzzled his face against David’s neck, pressed his lips to the pulse point.

David wasn’t used to this—to sex being light-hearted and playful, to laughter during sex being something done _with _him rather than _at _him. He wasn’t used to the kindness, and it simultaneously terrified him and made him hungry for more.

“I like making you lose control like that,” he murmured against David’s ear, “come home with me.” David sighed into the touch, snaked his arms around Patrick’s neck and squeezed. He was grinning that crooked grin, trying to bite back his delight, but the joy he felt was threatening to split his face in two.

“Okay, Patrick,” David pressed his forehead against Patrick’s, let the grin take over, and was thrilled to see Patrick return it with his own.


	14. homecoming

“Just keep your eyes closed, David.”

“It’s just that I’m not really big on surprises?” David’s voice is getting shriller with each syllable, and Patrick’s hands covering his eyes as they walk certainly isn’t helping the situation. “And I’m not a fan of, you know, _not seeing things_.”

Patrick leans in closer, then rolls up onto the balls of his feet so that he can whisper into David's ear, “We both know that’s not true.” He punctuates his words with a teasing nip at David’s lobe.

“For the hundredth time, _context matters, _Patrick!” He can feel his heart pounding as he runs through a catalogue of worst case scenarios while Patrick gingerly guides him up the stairs toward his apartment.

Surprise Party. Orgy. Surprise orgy? It wouldn’t be the first time, David remembers with a grimace. 

Patrick’s going to introduce him to his other fiancé, or fiancée, or family. _Maybe he has another family, and David’s the dirty secret._

_Oh god_, maybe Patrick wants to get a dog. Or a baby. _What if he wants a dog AND a baby?_

“David, stop catastrophizing. You’re going to like it,” Patrick sounds so sure of himself. “I promise.” David can hear the smile in his voice, and he’s torn between letting the knot in his stomach take over his whole body and just relaxing into the assurance of Patrick’s voice.

He wants to relax, because he trusts his fiancé. So he does. Well, he tries to relax. He relaxes about 3.76%.

“We’re almost there,” Patrick wraps his arms around David’s waist and rests his chin on his shoulder, softly nuzzling his nose into David’s neck. “I’m going to need you to keep your eyes closed for just a little longer, alright?”

“OK, Patrick,” David exhales, and feels that knot in his stomach loosening up. He can hear Patrick fiddling with his keys, and then hears the sound of him unlocking the door.

_Please don’t be a surprise party._

Patrick maneuvers himself in front of David and grabs hold of both hands, pulling him into his apartment.

“Alright, love, open your eyes.”

David opens his eyes to…an empty room. “Wh-what’s going on? Where are we?” He looks around the space, gradually taking in small details like the hallway just past the kitchen, the multiple doors suggestive of more than one room.

“2 bedrooms, 1.5 bath. It just opened up, and Ray wanted to give me—well, _us—_first right of refusal. ‘Roomie privilege,’ he called it.” Patrick is smiling, a small, hopeful little thing, and David feels too many things at once. “What do you think? Wanna check the closet space?”

David wraps his lips around his teeth, looks up to the ceiling while he squeezes his eyes shut. He’s not going to cry over his fiancé saying “closet space.”

“Are you sure?” David asks, because he still can’t help it, even now, with the rings on his fingers and the date set and venue booked; even now he can still get caught up in his own head because it doesn’t feel real, that Patrick chose him, that Patrick continues to choose him every day. It still feels like a dream sometimes, and he never wants to wake up.

“Absolutely, David Rose.”

OK, and now the tears are starting to spill over, and David can’t trust his voice because Patrick is looking at him like _that _and it’s all too much, and David can’t believe he gets to have _this _for the rest of his life. So he just nods, nods furiously.

“In that case,” Patrick snakes his arms around David’s middle and pulls him in tight. He leans in close so that he can mouth the words against David’s lips. “Welcome home, love.”


	15. thundersnow

The windows are rattling from the force of the wind; the world outside is nothing but a white blur as the snow continues its onslaught. David thought he’d experienced the brutality of winter when he lived in the city, but this? This is something completely different. This is nothing like he’s seen before.

It’s eerie how quiet it is, the storm raging outside. Even with the raging wind, everything is oddly silent, sound dampened by the falling snow. That is, until the thunder starts.

“Thundersnow? That’s an actual thing?” David is scowling, eyes narrowed in disbelief as he takes in what his boyfriend is saying.

Patrick has his earnest face on, but even when he’s being earnest at David, there’s still that twinkle in his eye, the lilt to his voice. He could be teasing—because really, Patrick is _always _teasing David. And David loves that about Patrick; he loves how Patrick is always playing with him, teasing in a way that nobody else has ever done, in a way that nobody else _could _ever do. Patrick’s teasing lets David be playful, lets him drop his aloof guard and just _enjoy _things. David loves Patrick for that. Well, that’s one of the things he loves him for.

“Yes, it’s an actual thing,” Patrick tries to bite back his grin, attempting to put his ‘I’m not shitting you, David. This is something that happens’ face on, but failing miserably because when David scowls like that he gets the cutest little wrinkles between his brows, and it just makes Patrick so so _fond _to see them, because they’re part of David’s _unguarded_ scowl, the one he makes when he’s not trying to rein in his face like he does with most people. Patrick loves loves _loves _to see that scowl, because it’s a reminder that the beautiful man beneath those frowny eyebrows has let him in, trusts him enough to show him those wrinkles.

“Just listen, David,” Patrick grabs the blanket—the one his great aunt Sue crocheted for him when he went off to college—from the end of the sofa and scoots closer to David. He unfolds it and covers them both up, curling into a tight little ball as he rests his head on David’s shoulder. It’s nice being able to snuggle up into his boyfriend’s larger frame. Patrick sighs as David wraps an arm around his back, pulling him even closer. There’s another crash of thunder outside. “It’s definitely a thing.”

“Mmmm, yes it is,” David’s absentmindedly stroking up and down Patrick’s bicep, nuzzling into the hair on the top of Patrick’s head. He’s nuzzling and kissing and stroking, and it makes Patrick feel so happy, so so happy that the warmth at the center of his chest just might spill out onto the sofa and envelop them both. “I think I like thundersnow,” David murmurs against Patrick’s hair.

There’s something so soothing about this moment; something domestic and easy and comfortable in a way that neither man has ever felt before, and it’s just so right. _This, _they both realize, _this is bliss._


	16. motorcycle

Patrick had never considered it, really. Like, well, he’d heard Alexis tease David about getting his driver’s license that one time, and then had to deal with the fall out of _that _conversation for a good 45 minutes afterward. And, of course, Stevie had showed him the video of David learning how to ride a bicycle when they’d gotten stoned after a particularly brutal rehearsal with Moira.

Given everything he knew about his fiancé, the very _idea _of David on a motorcycle was laughable. And, ok, hot. Really hot. Thinking about snuggling up behind David in his black leather jacket, holding on tight as the engine rumbled between their legs. Definitely hot. But it was hot in that “it’s never gonna happen” way, kind of like that fantasy he had where he was getting spit-roasted by David and Ted. Just a little something filed away in the recesses of his brain, a little image in the spank bank that he could pull out for special occasions. 

But when the motorcycle pulled up in front of the store, that image came roaring back to the front of his mind. Especially since the guy on the bike reminded him a bit David. _Unf._

All of a sudden, Patrick’s jeans felt even tighter than usual as he raked his eyes up and down Biker Guy’s body. Patrick kind of hoped the guy would leave the helmet on so he could keep up his fantasy a little longer. But, of course, that wasn’t going to happen. He continued to ogle Biker Guy’s ass as he removed the helmet, and then…

Well, then…_fuck_.

Patrick felt his brain start to buffer.

_David. _That’s David. David [Middle Name Unknown] Rose, getting off of the motorcycle. That he’d been _riding_. Like, with his _body_.

Patrick scurried toward the door so that he could meet David as soon as he walked inside.

“You can ride a motorcycle?” Patrick gasped the question as he tackled his leather-clad fiancé at the door in a frenzy of roaming hands and lips.

“Hello to you, too,” David laughed, “and yes—” Patrick cut him off with a kiss as he fumbled to lock the door, and then tugged on David’s arm.

“Come here,” he ordered, and pulled David toward the stockroom.


	17. everybody does it

“I heard that,” Patrick giggled as he strode into the room, causing David’s eyebrows to shoot up to his hairline.

“Um…I-uh…didn’t know you were back there,” David said, weakly. He could feel his cheeks starting to burn, and the fact that the earth hadn’t swallowed him up already was all the evidence necessary that god was a lie.

“Oh, I figured,” Patrick teased, “That was a good one, by the way.” He snuggled close behind David and wrapped his arms around his waist, then pressed a soft kiss to the side of neck.

“Oh my god,” David muttered, his shoulders tensing as he looked up to the ceiling. He chewed on the insides of his cheeks and squinted his eyes closed. “We are _not _doing this.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Patrick nuzzled behind his ear, and that wasn’t fair. David was extremely busy being mortified about his body’s betrayal and Patrick was playing dirty. “Everybody does it.”

“Can we _please _not talk about this?” David’s whole body was thrumming with nervous energy. It’s one thing for bodies to, you know, have their functions, but it was an entirely different story for those functions to happen in front of your boyfriend. That was entirely _incorrect._

Patrick laughed again, and this time he squeezed David even tighter. “But it’s a big deal, David. We should celebrate it.” David hazarded a quick glance at Patrick’s face. He was doing that adorable upside down smile, his eyes twinkling like he found David passing gas at him somehow _charming._

“No, we most certainly should _not_,” David declared, shaking his head violently. “We should _forget _this ever happened.”

Patrick nipped at David’s ear and planted a sloppy kiss on David’s cheek. “Would it make you feel better if I farted, too?” His voice was light and playful, and David resented that because he was pretty sure he would never be able to have sex with Patrick again.

David wrested himself free from Patrick’s arms and scurried across the room. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall, glaring at his boyfriend, troll that he was.How dare Patrick be so blasé when lives were at stake? Well, their sex life, at least.

“It’s not funny,” he grumbled. But Patrick was still chuckling. He was practically _giddy_, and David still hadn’t managed to get himself swallowed up by a hole in the earth yet. Patrick closed the distance between them, and took both David’s hands in his own. He rocked up on the balls of his feet and nuzzled his nose against David’s. 

“I love you, David,” Patrick was using his _quiet_ voice, and he was still looking at David with those heart eyes. Soft. Tender. _Fond._

“Even though I’m disgusting?” David could feel his whole face crinkling up in a grimace, but Patrick wasn’t moving away; he just kept nuzzling their noses together, pressing those soft, sweet lips to David’s.

“You’re beautiful,” Patrick whispered. “Farts and all.” He nipped playfully at David’s lower lip, kissed the tip of David’s nose, and then his face split into a wide grin.

David felt his own face twisting into a dopey grin of his own, completely out of his control, no reining it it. “You play dirty, Mr. Brewer,” he murmured.

Patrick sighed happily and snaked his arms around David’s waist, resting his chin on David’s shoulder as he pulled him in close and gave him a squeeze.

David’s stomach gurgled. “Um, you might want to hold off on that. I don’t think I’m done.”

Patrick just laughed and hugged him again, more gently this time. 

**Author's Note:**

> The ambulance arrives and David is rescued and taken to Elmdale General and makes a full recovery, I promise. If you need to yell at me, find me on tumblr @olivebranchesandredwine. I'll understand.


End file.
